Snowflake and Octothorp
by Nimbus 1944
Summary: Peeves has had Hogwarts to himself. Those days are over!


Snowflake and Octothorp

****

Peeves has had Hogwarts to himself.  
Those days are over! 

Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer. 

__

It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life.  
- Bilbo Baggins

At dawn, the helmet of the suit of armour began to rattle a bit.

Then, accompanied by the sound of a great yawn, the iron helmet popped off and fell to the stone floor, bouncing five times, loudly. From inside the armour, a tinny voice echoed the yawn. 

"Fidgets! This suit is bloody uncomfortable for sleeping. I must remember to drop it down the stairs.... oh, wait. Did that once. It didn't break. A shame, that! Perhaps -- dropping it off the North Tower. Hmmm. That might work."

Little hands with long fingers reached out of the metal collar, then a shock of messy hair appeared, then a pair of wicked dark eyes. Peeves was ready to face another day at Hogwarts.

"Lots to do. Always lots to do in this dump. But, food first! After all, hungriness is next to noisiness."

The pesky poltergeist floated out a window, up to the roof of the Great Hall, and down a smoky chimney into the basement kitchen.

Three girl house-elves, fairly new on the job, screamed when the evil-looking little man swooped from the fire where they were cooking breakfast. "Whooooooo!" he howled in their faces. "Ickle elf, ickle elf! Put the icklest on the shelf!" Then he did just that, picking up a terrified little girl; he left her crying on a ledge 10 feet above the floor.

The older elves were used to his occasional invasions, and knew his weakness for cheese. A slab of fresh cheese was immediately set out on the cutting-boards, and Peeves grabbed it and flew up the chimney. 

The head elf levitated the girl back to the floor, then resumed stuffing sausage, saying nothing. _Some day, _he thought, _the elves will learn why we must suffer bullies. _ The others also picked up their utensils; as horrible as these disruptions were, there was nothing they could do about it. It was just another part of the house-elf's lot.

Peeves settled atop a gargoyle on the Great Hall, overlooking the lake. "Ah, the simple, quiet country life!" he mumbled through a mouthful of cheese. 

* * *

Indeed, all was simple and quiet for our anti-hero that day, until he rounded a corner and ran face-first into a floating mass of candy floss. (Oh, for you Yanks, that's cotton candy.) Peeves sputtered and coughed in the sticky stuff, saying some very nasty things about a certain pair of red-haired twins, whom he instantly blamed.

But it wasn't Fred and George cackling at him from the eaves. It was a voice very much like his own.

"Got'em full in the face, we did, the old goat! And he calls himself a poltergeist? What a buffoon!"

"Pffft!" Peeves tried blowing and spitting the mess from his chin.

"Can we quote you on that, old man?"

"Pffft! And who will I be thanking in a big way for this?"

"Oh, we just stopped in for a visit -- floss courtesy of some dump down the road , Honeywhatzis. But if we can have this much fun, perhaps we'll stay!"

Peeves pffftted away the last of it. "But who are you? Once I'm through with you, the stonecutter will want to know how to spell it."

"Oh, a feisty one, are you? Well, make sure they've spelt it right. We're Snowflake and Octothorp, at your service, yer lordship. Should we hold dessert til tea time?"

He finally cleared his eyes, and found himself in most unexpected company -- two poltergeist youths, a boy and girl, near the ceiling. He guessed the mouthy boy was Octothorp.

"And what misbegotten corner of the beast world is an 'octothorp' from?" asked Peeves.

"Oh, the other end of the valley, actually. We lived in the old telecom centre in Althers. Second-generation we are; Snowflake's parents used to muck up the telegraph there. We had a lot of fun growing up, playing with the switches and such, and mixing the phone calls! But now they've replaced all that stuff with a tiny computer box, and tore the old building down. Terrible things, computers. There's barely enough room for a gremlin or two. Where's a poltergeist to live these days?"

"Elsewhere. Hogwarts is _my_ domain. I'm _third_-generation here, if you please."

"If we please. But it's a big place, old man. Obviously, it's time for some fresh poltergeist blood in this dusty old joint. They'll never know what hit 'em."

"The name isn't Old Man, it's Peeves. And _you'll_ never know what hit _you_ if you take on the humans here. They're not the muggles you're used to dealing with."

"Muggles, buggles. See you in the comics, Peevesie."

Peeves, still drenched in his sugary coating, watched as the two smirking youngsters flitted down the hall, giggling. "Hmmph!" was his only comment.

* * *

Life must go on, so Peeves washed off the muck and resumed his normal schedule, much of which involved snoozing. One or two incidents per day, if that much, were usually enough to satisfy him. No sense straining himself! There were always ickle Firsties or house-elves to annoy; they were such easy marks. If he could also score against the older students or staff, particularly the pompous ones, all the better.

A few targets were to be avoided, of course. (Peeves could be oft-times heartless, but he wasn't completely stupid.) Dumbledore, for one, was not to be toyed with.... then Hagrid, McGonagall, and a few of the more tolerant staff. Ministry and strangers were definitely a bad idea. 

No owls, either; with few exceptions, owls were smarter than they looked, and pecked a lot. Potty's big Snowy White was two feet tall, and she was not amused by Peeves.

Definitely off limits were the ghosts. They didn't need to sleep, and could pass through anything. If annoyed, they could make life miserable for Peeves all night and day, so he left them alone. The Bloody Baron, in particular, had no patience for poltergeist wildness.

Filch and his dopey cat would be such fun to annoy, but in a way, they shared Peeves' goals. Filch and Mrs. Norris were such simple tools to manipulate, and so predictible. Peeves often used them, with great results. 

He was set to doze off on a chandelier when he overheard some students passing by. One was talking about Peeves having emptied a bucket of water on someone in the lobby this morning. Another said he saw the attacker, and thought it was a girl poltergeist; did Peeves have a daughter? They laughed at the possibility that he could even find a mate in the first place.

Peeves said nothing, staring into empty space. He could see it coming; Snowflake and Octothorp were going to be a problem. 

* * *

"PEEVES!" yelled Snape. "Come here this instant!"

The little dark-eyed poltergeist popped into view near the ceiling, and bowed to Snape.

"May it please you, your homeliness -- but then, why would I want to please you?"

"You are in serious danger of being banished at the Headmaster's order. If I were you, I'd not tempt the devil."

"That's no way to talk about Dumble-bore. Or were you referring to yourself, Professor Snoop?"

"That man you drenched this morning was a Ministry director, gathering intelligence to report to the Prime Minister, you git."

"If he wanted intelligence, why would he visit Hogwarts? And I drenched no one -- but I will, if you'd like! Just tell me where he is."

"Of course you drenched him! I saw it myself, at 9 this morning! I heard you!"

"Tsk. tsk. That's much too early to be drinking, guv'ner. You know you can't handle the stuff -- or was that your mother who was always falling down on weekends?"

"I WAS NOT DRINKING!"

"You're right. It _was_ your mum. How is the old girl?"

"PEEVES!"

"Yell if you want. It's your blood pressure. I haven't drenched anyone today... but then, it's still early."

"Then who did?"

"You were there. You tell me. I want to send congratulations."

"That man was _Ministry_!"

"Hmm! A gutsy hit, that. Stupid, but gutsy." 

"It would seem, Peeves, that you would be very concerned if another poltergeist was moving in on your territory."

"Really? Another poltergeist, do you think? Tell me, sir professor, are you sure it's only _one_ more?"

"What are you saying?"

"Tsk. You must listen closer. I think it's a shame what the drinking is doing to you."

"We'll see about this!" said Snape, storming out.

* * *

A half-hour later, between classes, Peeves was set to pester some Firsties on the stairs. He thought he was in the clear until he saw Snape rounding the corner. When the misty shape of the Bloody Baron emerged from the wall, also heading in his direction, he knew he was in trouble.

Snape took advantage of his momentary distraction. _"Immobulus!" _he ordered with a wave of his wand. Peeves froze, with a very surprised look.

"Really, Professor," said the Baron. "Was that necessary? I can usually control him."

"Time is short, Baron, and so is my temper at this point. Let's get right to it, Peeves." 

"Yes, Professor, sir. Yes, Baron, sir."

"Did you drench the ministry man?" asked Snape.

"No, sir. I laughed to hear about it, sir, but I didn't do it, sir."

"Who did?"

"As I hear it, it was Snowflake, sir."

"Who in blazes is Snowflake?"

"If it please you, sir, she is one of the new poltergeists."

"WHAT?"

"Yes, sir. Snowflake and Octothorp. They were living in Althers, sir, but now they are quite homeless, so it was only a short trip to come here, sir." 

"Let me make it quite clear, Peeves. We want them out of here. If we have to go to great lengths to evict them, we might as well evict you at the same time. Do you understand me?"

"I do, sir."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Save you the trouble, sir."

"Then you know where your loyalties lie, Peeves?"

"Hogwarts forever, sir."

"The Baron will be monitoring your progress with great interest."

"Let me at them, sir."

"That's the spirit."

"If it please you, sir, poltergeists are not exactly spirits. We are sprites who...."

"P E E V E S ! ! G E T - M O V I N G!"

"Yes, sir. I'm already there, sir. Except.... the charm, sir, please?"

"Oh, yes. What a shame; I prefer you this way. _Finire incantatem."_

"I'm on the way." Despite his assignment, Peeves could not resist one last moment of resistance. He turned and chuckled, "Say hi to Mum for me, Prof." 

* * *

His first stop was to speak to his human counterparts. "Gentlemen! -- and I use the term loosely."

Fred and George looked up from their latest dungbomb plot.

"Oh, hi, Peeves...."

"...come to annoy us?"

"Be careful...."

"...we know where you sleep."

Peeves was unconcerned. "Oh, go on. Blow up the armour if you'd like. I'm tired of that suit anyway. I may throw it off a tower."

"Great! Can we watch?" said Gred.

"Would you like it to explode in midair?" offered Forge. 

"Not now. You can help me on something else, though. I have two rogue poltergeists to evict, with the school's blessing. Interested?"

"Sounds like ripping good fun, old boy --"

"-- especially the part about the school's okay."

"Our arsenal is at your disposal..."

"... and blowing up poltergeists is our specialty."

"None of that!" barked Peeves. "To the contrary. I want you on your _best_ behaviour."

"Exactly, mate," argued Fred. "Blowing up poltergeists _is_ our best behaviour."

"No! I _don't_ want you worried about being caught. I don't want Snape in his perpetual gloomy mood, or Potter going about with that little black cloud over his head. I don't want every unrequited teenage lover moaning in self-pity. I don't want Firsties worried about exams. I don't want Filch skulking about."

"A very unlikely world.... but why?"

"Dumb up and mind this. To the contrary, I want _everyone_, even Filch and the Slytherins, brim-full of cheer, joy and happiness. I want Snape singing love-songs. I want the dopey house-elves dancing on the tables. Now, _think!_ What would cause the mood I'm looking for?"

"Umm...your departure?" shrugged George.

"Not a chance," said Peeves.

"Last day of Seventh Year?" tried Fred.

"It's been done."

"Hogwarts on joy-juice?" attempted George. 

"Ah! There you go! That's it exactly. Now, how do I arrange it?"

"Hmm!" said Fred. "Sounds like a job for our Moste Potente Potions Department. This could be expensive for you, Master Peeves, and difficult.... but never say never."

* * *

For two days, Snowflake and Octothorp had their way. Students and staff alike endured a constant barrage of noises, messes and catastrophes. Madam Pomfrey was busy tending a flock of victims in distress. 

Snape was outraged, and would have preferred to declare open war on all three poltergeists. Dumbledore begged the patience of the staff, and so it was; privately, he wished that Peeves would do _something_ about it, and soon.

Late on the second day, an effective "joy-juice" was ready, a colourless and powerful liquid potion. The twins casually toured the kitchens in mid-afternoon, as the elves geared up to prepare the evening meal. Fred and George visited every work table, spreading joy. They left a little here, a little there -- a few drops on all the soup cauldrons, the meat pots, the draught urns, the salad bowls, the treat platters, the bread trays, the water, the utensils. No one must be missed. Oh, and on the cheese cutting board, too, at Peeves' insistance; he mustn't miss gladdening himself.

With the evening meal, happiness came to Hogwarts.

* * *

By the next morning, only the ghosts and two young poltergeists had not enjoyed the benefits of the Weasley potion. Even Fred and George, who knew what they were consuming, had feasted. It was a _very_ sunny morning!

Snowflake and Octothorp began their third day at Hogwarts dropping water balloons from the lobby ceiling. Much to their surprise, the victims laughed almost as much as the onlookers.

They switching to tripping Firsties, dashing along a busy hall at ankle level, toppling students by the dozens. Again, the victims found it hilarious. 

Nothing seemed to work. They pulled pigtails, much to the girls' amusement. They put Flitwick atop a cabinet, and he danced a jig until rescued. They set the huge pendulum spinning wildly out of control, and onlookers applauded. 

The poltergeists paused, and glanced at each other in puzzlement.

"Now you've done it, heeheehee!" said a voice from above them. They looked up into the shadows to see a smiling Peeves, munching on some cheese. He had been eating cheese all night -- intentionally, just for this encounter. He was very, very happy.

"Meaning what, old man?" asked Octothorp.

"You overdid it. Now they're immune to us. They don't care what you do! Is it really any fun pestering humans who don't care?"

"Oh, we've just started, old man. If they're playing us up, we'll tear the school apart."

"It won't work, you know. You can feel it. They're free of us. Oh dear. We're all out of a job. Heeheeheeheehee!"

Snowflake had a worried look. "Octothorp? We could move on, y'know. Ringback and Crybaby were going to that hotel in Fort William. Maybe there's room for us, too?"

Octothorp nodded. "Yeah, or that gaol in Inverness. I'd bet we could do well there."

"I'd think about it if I were you," said Peeves. "Me, I've been here too long to move. I'll go down with the sinking ship." He resumed munching.

The two youngsters noted their own growing discomfort, but they couldn't see the trembling in Peeves' pale hands, or feel the clamminess of his skin. 

* * *

Hermione Granger was skipping down the corridor, happy as a lark -- until she saw the body lying in the hallway. Joy-juice or not, her mood turned, and she ran to investigate. 

It was Peeves, and he looked deathly ill.

She immediately took her wand and touched her throat with the word _"Sonorus,"_ then shouted, "Madam Pomfrey! Please come to the third floor corridor. Peeves is in some sort of distress."

Before Pomfrey could answer the call, her outcry brought a flock of others. The Baron was one of the first to arrive, and he hovered closely, seemingly most concerned for Peeves and quite nervous. Snape was not far behind, and he drew the Baron back a few yards to speak to him. 

Dumbledore also appeared, and joined that whispered conversation; then, Snape came sweeping in on Hermione.

"Get away from him, Granger! Your pity is quite wasted on this fool."

Hermione was taken aback."Professor, he may be very mean to us, but we don't have to act that way ourselves. He's injured, or sick."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, you silly girl. I told you to _get away_."

"HE'S ILL!"

"ONE HUNDRED POINTS! GET AWAY!"

Frustrated, Hermione turned. "Professor Dumbledore, please do something for him!" 

"Miss Granger!" said the stern-looking headmaster. "You are being disobedient The professor gave you a direct order, and you have thrice ignored him. Go stand by the window, and I will deal with your insolence when we're through."

Hermione, shocked and angry, walked away sobbing. She had only tried to help, and everyone was mad at her!

Pomfrey arrived. Peeves was barely stirring, just enough to speak to the Baron for a moment. Then, he was levitated by Snape and taken to the infirmary. As the onlookers dispersed, Dumbledore consulted with the Baron in hushed tones, then calmly walked over to Hermione.

"You must be very upset with me at the moment, Miss Granger."

Hermione wiped her tears. "Professor, you know I was right. You teach us to care for other magical creatures, and then when I actually do so, I'm ridiculed and lose points for my house. With your pardon, sir, that doesn't make sense!"

"Oh, but it makes complete sense under the circumstances."

She looked like she was about to resume crying. "How can you say that?"

"I can explain. First, let me restore the points taken from you. And now, for fifty additional points, tell me: what is the nature of a poltergeist?" 

Baffled by the questioning, she thought and responded, "A sprite-being, with partial attributes of spirits and humans, known to cause unusual and often awkward events." 

"Exactly," he answered. "Now, Peeves occasonally will bother the kitchen elves until they feed him cheese. For fifty points, is cheese his natural diet?"

"Um...no, sir. He may like cheese, but it would do nothing for him. Poltergeists absorb energy from the stress and misery of those around them, especially young girls. If they're not stressed enough, the poltergeist may do something to make them worried or scared. Dobby's told me Peeves likes annoying the girl elves, and making them cry."

"Very good. With those facts in mind, I'm sure you ready, for fifty points, to jump to a conclusion. Tell me why Professor Snape and I were so intentionally harsh with you just now, when today has been such a happy, carefree day."

She pondered for a moment, then it suddenly came clear. "Are you saying Peeves wasn't injured, or ill -- he was _starving?" _

"Starving, yes, or anemic; very much so, from the looks of him. We helped revive him with a few moments of agitation and rebuke... for which I deeply apologise. Please don't blame Professor Snape; he acted on my orders. For that matter, Peeves was doing something very foolish -- but brave. Do you ever wonder why we allow Peeves free rein at Hogwarts?"

"I think we all wonder about that, sir."

"Coming-of-age is a stressful time in itself, Miss Granger, but particularly so for young witches and wizards. At first, magic seems like such a wonderful field of study -- until we realise how it is fraught with danger. Suddenly, we discover that those around us can cause us harm, or control us, or deceive us, much more so than any muggle can. We also discover that our own powers, if only slightly misdirected, can cause death or misery to ourselves or others. That is quite a burden to drop on the shoulders of 11-year-olds, wouldn't you say? So, of course, there is much stress and worry in the halls of Hogwarts. Poltergeist activity would not be unexpected here, to draw off some of that stressful aura. Now, we could have the chaos of 400 unidentifiable, uncontrollable poltergeists, one per student, causing random noises and levitations in every corner of the school -- or what, Miss Granger?"

"Or... one full-time poltergeist, hyperactive from absorbing the stress from _all_ of us, and acting with the blessing of the school!"

"Exactly. Fifty points! Now, when you're home, does your cat allow stray cats to wander in?"

"No, sir. Crookshanks has no patience for other cats around the house."

"That's territoriality. Peeves has been trained to do the same thing, and when two brash young poltergeists arrived this week, he was the perfect choice to evict them. What we didn't expect was that he would do it the way he did. As the day's events suggest, he somehow arranged to feed us a potion for happiness. Everyone has been extremely unstressed today, including Peeves himself. The Baron tells me our two unwanted guests have decided to move on to some more fertile and dependable feeding-ground. Peeves succeeded -- but he almost killed himself in the process, since he also went emotionally unfed, while seeing to it that not even his own stress would feed the interlopers."

Hermione smiled. "I can't think we'll ever reward Peeves, but he _was_ doing us a favour!"

"He'll have his reward. The potion's effect on all of us is weakening already; I imagine it will wear off tonight. For now, Madam Pomfrey is raising Peeves' blood-sugar level a notch. With exams coming, the students and staff will be their stressful selves again by morning. Peeves will be rewarded the same way that you would reward Crookshanks: he'll find a little something extra on the dinner platter! He will enjoy a plentiful feeding of stress, worry, anger, guilt, meanness and resentment.... and, if he wishes, a goodly portion of fresh cheese as well! Now, Miss Granger, we should visit Madam Pomfrey ourselves. On this occasion, I imagine she might prescribe some of her wonderfully restorative chocolate for the both of us."


End file.
